Page 67 of Good Sisters

‘Jesus, Julie, do something,’ Louise muttered.

‘They should send Harry to torture people. This is worse than waterboarding or having your nails pulled out.’ Marion drained her glass of wine.

‘I have to go.’ Sophie backed out of the room.

‘… and it’s important that the boys feel our full support. We need them to know that whatever the day or the hour, they can come to us. We are –’

‘WELL SAID,’ I cut across him, and began to clap. Louise and Marion joined in.

The other parents enthusiastically clapped too, stopping Harry turning to yet another page of his notes. One of the other parents rushed over to shake his hand, and that signalled the end of the speech. The conversations swelled around the room again.

Harry made his way across to us, looking disappointed.

‘You came in too early there, Julie,’ he said. ‘I had an excellent ending coming up. Some really inspirational quotes.’

‘Harry, you put everyone into an induced coma. If you’d stripped bollock naked and done the samba, they wouldn’t have noticed.’ Marion refilled her glass.

‘What?’ Harry spluttered.

‘It was too long, Harry, way too long.’ Louise was her usual blunt self.

‘It was really good, darling, but that was the perfect time to end it.’ I tried to soften the blows. ‘Well done. Here, let me get you a drink.’

The party went on, and while some parents took it easy, others tried to drink us out of house and home, including one father who knocked over a table of glasses and collapsed like a whale on the ground. His mortified wife dragged him away while Marion and I swept up the broken glass.

The time flew by and I only realized it was eleven when Tom came over and asked me if he could sleep in our room because there was someone in his bedroom and the door was locked.

‘What do you mean, the door is locked?’

‘I can’t get in,’ Tom said. ‘I keep knocking, and I know someone’s in there, but they won’t open the door. I’m really tired, Mum. Can I just climb into your bed?’

I felt a cold dread seep through me. Who the hell was locked into Tom’s bedroom? I didn’t wait to ask any more questions.

I raced upstairs, with Tom hot on my heels. I tried the door and, sure enough, it was locked. I knocked. I could just make out voices.

‘Who’s in there? This is Julie, the triplets’ mother. Open the door immediately.’

Silence.

I banged on the door. ‘You are not permitted in our bedrooms. If you do not open this bloody door, I’m going to kick it down. Five … four …’

‘Hold on, I’m coming,’ a boy’s voice called.

The door swung open and Sebastian stood before us, with no top on, his jeans unbuttoned.

I gasped. ‘What the hell is going on?’

‘Nothing, I just wanted some privacy,’ he slurred, cool as you like. Apparently, he wasn’t remotely bothered by being found half naked, locked into my eleven-year-old’s bedroom.

‘Mum, look, it’s Jess.’ Tom pointed to the figure lying on his bed.

Oh, no. No no no no no. Not Jess. Not my niece.

I forced myself to speak calmly. ‘Tom, go to my room and close the door, please.’

Tom, sensing danger, scurried off.

Shoving past Sebastian, I rushed to Tom’s bed where Jess was lying topless and very drunk. She still had her skirt and knickers on, and I prayed that meant she hadn’t had sex.

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